


Behind Barriers

by heart_full_of_magic



Category: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV)
Genre: (or at least an attempt at it), :(, Angst, Barriers, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, Longing, Mystery, Relationship Talk, Sad, Sadness, Toxic Relationships, back and forth, discussions, hinting of past, mostly an implied relationship really, past relationship, sad lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_full_of_magic/pseuds/heart_full_of_magic
Summary: “After all these years, she’s still manipulating people.”A look at a trip Farah Dowling makes on the same day every year.
Relationships: Farah Dowling & Rosalind, Farah Dowling/Rosalind
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	Behind Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> hello! slightly different characters i looked at this time. thank you for all the support and comments, i really appreciate it!
> 
> \- this was... rough. partly because i'm still not sure how to feel about these two, partly because a little part of me went into this piece, and partly because i really don't believe this would canonically happen. it took me forever to get this down, really.  
> \- i've never been in this sort of relationship, first of all, but i really wanted to try and portray that push and pull and it was hard with little experience. so i hope i've done it justice.  
> \- feedback is always welcome, especially since i'm trying something out with these two! 
> 
> hope you enjoy <3

She always made sure the door was closed before she opened her bookshelf passage. She didn’t want a repeat of the experience with her assistant; the poor boy had been so traumatized when she had walked through what seemed, to him, a solid bookshelf. It had taken her almost half an hour to assure him that no, he wasn’t going mental, it was part of her magic. Farah prided herself on her illusion and barrier skills. She might be constantly exhausted from keeping them up, but they were made with such precision and detail that even skilled fairies could miss the slightest glimmer behind the shelves. 

With a wave of her hand and a flash of blue eyes, the barrier melted away to let her pass. She glanced at the door one last time to make sure no one was waiting outside. Callum was on his lunch break, one she had told him to extend, so she had a good half hour. And it was the only chance she would get today-- work was never ending, it seemed. But that was what you got when you imprisoned your former mentor in a magical barrier and had to take over, refurbish, and redesign an entire school. With a shake of her head, Farah snapped herself out of her reverie and finally stepped into the tunnels leading underneath Alfea.

There was no affection remaining in her heart for the person she was about to talk to. It had been years since they had spoken face to face, and she knew that the burning in her chest when she thought about the woman was anger and hatred and a mesh of both. But every year, on this one day, she allowed herself to think. Farah wouldn’t call it reminiscing or longing, not really. Longing would imply that she wanted things to return to the way they were. And she _didn't love_ her.

She _couldn’t_ love Rosalind. She _wouldn't_. And yet…

And yet, there had been a time when she felt like they were the only two people in the world. When a single one of her smiles would make Farah’s day shine brighter than the rising sun, and inciting her laughter would make her world erupt in happiness. When feeling her touch electrified her and made her feel like she was the most powerful being in the entire world. There had been a time when mornings dawned spent with her, and evenings fell wrapped in her presence. When she knew that she was seen and appreciated and admired. It was all Farah had ever wanted at the time. 

But that hadn’t truly been happiness. That, she now realized, had been her desperate need to be seen, to be heard, to be needed. She had been a young and stupid student, craving for the affection and praise that she never seemed to get enough of. When Rosalind provided that to her, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that she’d succumbed to the older woman’s every need and whim. But that had turned her into the perfect soldier-- exactly what Rosalind needed at the time. There was a time when Farah would’ve done anything for her. But that had cost her dearly. It had cost the citizens of Aster Dell, it had cost her friends’ lives, it had cost one of her best friends his wife and the other his life. 

It was a terrifying thing, to turn away from someone who had given her life a purpose. But she had done it because she knew it was right. For all of Rosalind’s boasting about moral goods, power, and how it was their destiny to slay all the Burned Ones, she had never had a plan for what to do afterwards. Rosalind’s entire life had revolved around war, fighting, soldiers, the battlefield. She had never known anything else. Farah knew that she could never return to being the docile headmistress of a school that taught students about natural magic and not battle tactics. Rosalind would never bring herself low enough to give a lecture on how a fairy connected to their elements. She would teach that fairy the quickest and bloodiest way to take down an enemy. In fear of what she would do to Alfea’s future students, Farah locked her away.

But every year, on the anniversary of the day that broke her, she paid Rosalind a visit.

She took a moment before entering the final hallway. Even after fifteen years of whatever this was, she could never give herself enough time to prepare for the tug of war she experienced every time. A familiar hesitation gripped her as she turned the corner, and was finally met with that shining blue cylinder of magic.

If nothing else, it was strangely comforting to know that her own magic was the thing keeping them separated. She trusted herself now, after so many years of being doubtful of her abilities and wary about their prolonged use. With a deep sigh, Farah let her magic extend throughout the room, first checking that nothing was out of place. The barrier was working as intended. That was good; it made the next part of her visit easier. She looked at the capsule in front of her, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before allowing her magic to extend to the person inside.

“Hello, Farah.” 

The fact that the voice echoed in her own mind certainly didn’t help stop the shivers down her spine. Farah cleared her throat, although she wouldn’t be doing any actual speaking. This was the only way they could communicate through the barrier-- her magic connected their minds (as it had so many times before, battlefields apart) and allowed them to speak to each other.

“Rosalind. I hope you’ve been well?”

“As well as I can be, stuck in this shiny prison. Really, would it be too much of a pain to decorate once in a while? Switch up the colors, maybe?”

A breathless laugh escaped Farah, and it wasn’t exactly forced. It was impossible not to settle into familiarity when her voice sounded like it was right behind her, as close as they had been so many years ago. As soon as she realized she had laughed, she forced the smile to drop and cleared her throat. Rosalind seemed to sense her shift in mood.

“You’ve got a question.” Of course Rosalind knew that. With every year, their conversations had changed. For the first few, it had been complete silence. Farah hadn’t even known what to say to the mentor that she had once been so… close to. For the next couple, it had been a few phrases of updates on Alfea. Then, updates on her own life. She’d taken to asking questions these past few years. Rosalind barely ever gave her any information. Why did she even bother, really?

“Changelings,” She started, thinking of how best to frame the question. She could be direct, couldn’t she? There was never any sugarcoating. Not with Rosalind. “I’ve recently become aware of a changeling in the First World. Why is she here? Do you know anything about her?”

“Oh, Farah…” Rosalind said, a long-suffering sigh almost echoing in Farah’s mind. She could almost picture the older woman sitting in the chair she now occupied, the air fairy’s light eyes scrutinizing the students before her. “You worry too much. What’s a poor little changeling going to do at Alfea? Especially under your… careful gaze.” There was an innuendo or a jab there somewhere. She didn’t want to care.

“We both know that changelings are dangerous. I’d rather not have one at Alfea, but… there’s not much I can do. Do you know anything about her?” Farah asked again, shuffling where she stood. 

She could see Rosalind shrugging, her posture relaxed and carefree. The way she’d seen her before-- like she was at peace. But Farah knew that the older woman could have a knife to her throat in seconds. “Changelings can be tricky, tricky things. I’m sure there are some books in my office that could help you.” Farah found herself raising an eyebrow. Was Rosalind really telling her to consult books? Or was she just refusing to answer? She hated this uncertainty that filled her whenever she spoke with her former mentor-- always second-guessing, always trying to see what someone’s true motivations might be.

She took a deep breath before beginning again. “The last Burned Ones were last spotted fifteen years ago.” And didn’t she know it. She had helped get rid of them all, along with a village full of humans. “Is it a coincidence?”

Rosalind humorlessly chuckled. “You should know by now that nothing is a coincidence, Farah.”

“Do the Burned Ones have anything to do with the changeling?” Her patience was beginning to wear thin, her mind already tired from trying to keep the connection, bar Rosalind from the rest of her mind, and sift through which of Rosalind’s words were sincere and which were meaningless.

“Interesting story, really, those Burned Ones. You know-”

“I will ask you just one more time,” Farah interrupted, pleading with herself to not slip. “Do you know _anything_ about the changeling left in the First World fifteen years ago?” Silence filled her mind, and a quiet sigh of disappointment escaped her. While she didn’t expect Rosalind to tell her the truth-- she couldn’t, not anymore-- she had still had the smallest hope that the woman would reveal a little about what to expect about Bloom’s entry into the school. Even the smallest hope seemed to be too much for them now.

The conversation was coming to an end. She could feel it. There was nothing else left to say, and the older woman had been no help. Farah opened her mouth to say goodbye, but suddenly stopped. She felt it immediately, that poking at her mind. That wriggling worm of magic that approached her like a seductress, wanting to enter, wanting to be closer. Farah was familiar with that type of magic. She knew that signature. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her, really, that Rosalind was still capable of messing with her like this. She was one of the most powerful fairies the world had ever seen, gifted with an affinity for the other elements in addition to her natural air. She also had one of the most alluring, enduring presences that the mind fairy had ever known. Farah let out a small, involuntary gasp as memories suddenly began to flash through her mind. Her first day at Alfea, meeting her friends, her lessons, her first time seeing Rosalind, discovering the full extent of her powers, being taken under the headmistress’s wing, their private tutoring sessions, her office-

Farah regained her bearings and forced her eyes open, breaking whatever influence Rosalind had suddenly had on her. She breathed heavily, the beam of light still unbroken and shimmering in front of her. Whatever the older woman had done, it hadn’t allowed her to escape. Farah reached up to rub her eyes and was surprised when she felt wetness on her cheeks. She was crying.

“How did we become this, Farah?” The voice suddenly rang in her mind, not soft but not as demanding as usual. “I’ve only seen you for two weeks within fifteen years. Do you remember when we’d spend every day together? Every evening?” The sickly reminiscing tone in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. It made her want to run and stay at the same moment.

Of course she remembered. She would never forget.

“We became _this_ when you decided to endanger countless lives for your reckless pursuit of victory.” The headmistress said steadily, bowing her head a little to wipe at her eyes. “This wasn’t my doing. It was yours.”

“It’s lonely in here, you know. The same blue walls, the same empty space in my mind…” _I miss you_ , in other words. She was once again employing her honeyed tone. Farah wasn’t going to fall for this again. She wouldn’t-- she couldn’t. She had to stop herself before she said something she’d regret. 

Farah knew why she was here. After decades of knowing this woman, after being her student, protégé, soldier, and even something neither of them could name… she would always, irrationally and inexplicably, return. It had hurt in the past, it hurt now, and Farah wasn’t foolish enough to believe it wouldn’t hurt in the future. It was alluring and painful all at once, intoxicating and poisonous in a way she still didn’t know how to manage. It burned and it healed, it drowned her and saved her, it clipped her wings but nursed her back into the strong woman she was today. It had no name. Farah gathered herself again, mental blocks put back into place.

“I’ll see you next year, Rosalind.” Her tone was straight to the point, not wanting to give in to the emotion she knew was stirring in her. She felt more than heard the other woman’s disappointment. Rosalind didn’t say anything at all. With a clearing of her throat and a smoothing of her blouse, Farah turned and began her walk back up the tunnels.

If Farah Dowling was good at one thing, it was creating barriers, even if they exhausted her. She never would’ve guessed the ones around her heart would be the toughest to keep.


End file.
